


The Confession

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [33]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: How his wizarding friends find out about Lisa, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman, Pre-Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Suicidal Ianto, Wizard Ianto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 11:53:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: After having a vision showing Ianto in trouble, Luna takes Harry to look for Ianto.  They find him in his flat, bruised and broken after the Cyberwoman's death.  Jack shows up with Owen, who has insisted on checking Ianto for injury.  Ianto knows what his punishment should be, and in his despair, he's far too eager for it to be carried out.





	The Confession

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to my "Niffler" series, and while it _should_ be able to stand on its own, as long as you're somewhat familiar with both fandoms, I do recommend that you start with the main series, as there are some things that are mentioned here, but explained there. :)
> 
> Wizard Ianto Jones is the Ministry's Auror assigned to Torchwood. He attended Hogwarts and was in the same year as Luna Lovegood, a Seer who now works with the Ministry. He was one of the original members of Dumbledore's Army.
> 
> Only Jack knows about the wizarding world, and no one at Torchwood knows that Ianto is a wizard.

As soon as they apparated into Ianto’s flat, they knew that Luna’s vision had been accurate. Something had gone terribly wrong. Ianto was huddled on the floor with his back against the far wall, hugging his knees and making himself as small as possible between the window that sat open for his owl and the stack of boxes, still not unpacked from when he moved to Cardiff, three and a half months before. 

The flat looked as though he had just moved in days ago rather than months. The television sat on the floor, facing the fireplace as though it had been naughty and was put in time out. Empty bookcases sat, not properly placed along the wall, looking forlorn and lonely. The rest of the furniture was haphazardly arranged. The only thing that looked normal was a picture of Ianto and Lisa, but the way it sat off center on the mantle over the fireplace was all wrong, considering Ianto’s precise nature.

Had he been living like this since he moved back to Cardiff?

As Luna looked around, wide-eyed, she was chagrined to realize that she had not checked in on her friend, during that time. Had she done so, she would have seen that he had never even bothered to unpack anything more than the bare necessities, and she would have realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong. But he had put her off so many times, claiming he was busy with work and visiting Lisa where she was being treated for her injuries from the battle, and Luna had foolishly given him space. She now realized she had allowed him to retreat from them, clearly to his own detriment.

She finally took a good look at Ianto, and was frightened by what she saw. He was pale and shaking, and his clothes were damp and ruined, covered – as he was – in blood. He smelled strongly of bleach, with undertones of blood, stale sweat, desperation, and _death_.

“Nif!” she cried out as she and Harry rushed to his side. When he gave no reply, she knelt beside him. “Ianto? Are you all right?”

It was the completely wrong question to ask, because clearly, he was the furthest she had ever seen him from being ‘all right’, and until now, Luna had thought she’d seen Ianto in just about every variation of ‘not all right’ that there could be. His breathing was shallow; he was forcing air out of his body in small pants, and only by virtue of nature needing to fill a vacuum was he taking in more air. He was pale and clammy, most likely in shock, clearly in a good deal of physical pain, and his anguish was almost palpable. He stared straight ahead and took no heed of his friends’ presence in his home.

Luna reached out to take his hand, which was red and raw – perhaps from the bleach she smelled? Before she could touch him, someone began pounding on the door, causing her to jump. She noticed that Ianto did not react. Harry stood and faced the door, his wand out. 

“Ianto! Open the fucking door!” came the angry voice of the unknown person causing such a commotion. When Ianto did not respond, the voice came again. “We’re coming in. You’d better not have done anything stupid.” In a quieter tone, he could be heard muttering, “And if you’ve done a runner, I’ll hunt you down, myself.”

Harry put his wand away. Looked like they couldn’t take Ianto with them, just yet.

Another man’s voice could be heard in a more reasonable tone, “Jack, just let me see to him. You’re angry.”

“And you’re not?”

“Yes, I am. But had that been Katie, do you really think I would have done anything different?”

There was a huff and the sound of fumbling hands and jangling keys before the voice was raised again, announcing, “I have a key. We’re coming in.”

Harry pulled Luna into the corner on the opposite side of the boxes from Ianto and the window. He knelt with her, then pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket, covering their presence just as the door opened and a man in a dramatic military greatcoat burst in, followed by a shorter, more wiry man carrying a medical bag. They both stopped a moment, clearly as shocked by the state of Ianto’s flat as Harry and Luna had been.

After a moment, the doctor set his bag down by the door. “All right, Tea Boy?” he asked quietly, when they spotted Ianto on the floor. He turned to the man in the coat. “When did you bring him home?”

“An hour ago. I _told him_ to get himself cleaned up,” Jack seethed, spitting the words in Ianto’s direction. 

“And why did you only bring him home an hour ago, when you sent the rest of us home about thirty hours ago?”

“He was busy cleaning up the hub.”

The doctor looked at Jack and blinked. “And it didn’t occur to you that he might be hurt, might be in shock, might need help? You just put him to work? Jack, what were you thinking?”

“It was his mess; he needed to clean it up,” Jack, the man in the coat, replied. “I don’t need your commentary, Owen. That’s not why you’re here.”

“Well, you’re bloody well going to get it,” Owen was getting wound up. This was outrageous. Yes, Ianto had been an idiot. And yes, he had almost gotten them all killed, and possibly even endangered the world. But he had not acted out of malice. Clearly, he had thought Lisa could be saved. “That was cruel, Jack. And possibly dangerous. Look at him, for Christ’s sake!”

Coming back to himself a bit, Ianto sucked in a deep breath, wincing. “Torchwood protocol is very clear,” he interrupted their argument, his voice hoarse and harsh. “For my offences, there are only two possible penalties: Retcon, or execution.” He paused when there was a slight sound from his friends muffling gasps in the corner. “I am immune to Retcon. So your course of action is clear, Captain.”

Owen goggled at Ianto. There was no mention in his file about an immunity to Retcon. “Why the hell would you divulge that?” he asked incredulously.

Ianto stood, unsteady on his feet. He took a breath and steeled himself. “Protocol also states that in lieu of recording a pre-execution briefing, two witnesses will suffice.” He waved a hand in their direction. He knew this was necessary, and would let his friends know what had happened. “So. For the record, Lisa was partially converted by the Cybermen during the Battle of Canary Wharf. I was able to get her out of the wreckage and bring her to Cardiff. I stashed her away in one of the sub-levels of Torchwood Three, where I brought Dr. Tanizaki, a cybernetics expert from Japan, to help try to reverse the conversion.”

“There is no reversing cyber-conversion,” Jack growled.

“Dr. Tanizaki said he could do it,” Ianto replied evenly.

“He lied!”

“Didn’t know that, did I?” Ianto spat, his anger flaring. “And no one else would fucking help me. And she was still Lisa, right up until he removed her from the respirator.”

“And how could you possibly know that?” Jack raised his voice.

“_Magic_, Jack,” Ianto snarked, taking perverse pleasure when Jack rolled his eyes. He glanced at the corner with a significant look as he reached into his pocket, which had both Jack and Owen stepping back and putting hands on their weapons. He snorted in derision as he brought a jump drive out of his pocket, holding it between his index and middle fingers. “And brain scans. This is clean, but I know you won’t take my word for it. But Toshiko would be safe looking at this on a computer not connected to any networks. She and Owen can confirm what I’m telling you.” He tossed the drive at Jack’s feet.

“She was fighting the implants. Successfully. But I guess Dr. Tanizaki removing her from the respirator was the tipping point – gave the tech the final foothold it needed, to take root.” His shoulders slumped. “Once that happened, she wasn’t Lisa, anymore. But by then I just couldn’t…” His voice trailed off, then he sighed. “Taking care of her was all that kept me going, after the battle,” he confessed.

Jack stared at Ianto, frowning. Owen looked thoughtful. Ianto decided to keep speaking, so his friends would know. Hopefully so they would understand what had to happen, next.

“Once she was converted, she killed Tanizaki in a failed attempt to upgrade him and then tried to take over the hub. She almost converted Gwen. She killed Annie, the pizza delivery girl…” he choked. “She transplanted her brain, obviously with the cyber-tech infection still intact, into Annie’s head.” 

Luna knelt with a hand over her mouth as tears streamed. Ianto had already been through the horror of the battle. To hear how his nightmare had not ended, how for four months, he had been caring for Lisa, by himself… She could tell from the look in his eyes that with Lisa gone, he had given up, now. She knew from the tension pouring off of Harry as he tightened his arm around her that he could see the same. That’s why Ianto had told them he was immune to Retcon – he _wanted_ to be executed.

Ianto gave another derisive snort. “You accused me of hiding myself from you,” he said to Jack, “but I didn’t really have to do that, did I? It was shockingly easy to disappear, because you all made it perfectly clear that I was beneath your notice. The only times I was allowed to exist were if some mess needed clearing up, you needed coffee, or you wanted to appreciate how my arse looked, in a particular suit.”

Jack flinched, then paled as the truth of Ianto’s bitter words struck home.

Harry had his wand out again. He had heard more than enough, and was ready to curse these idiots, _obliviate_ them, and take Ianto to St. Mungo’s so Draco could treat his injuries. But Ianto began speaking again, and all the resentment had bled from his voice. He now just sounded resigned.

“So, Jack. That’s my confession.” He looked to the corner and continued, “I understand the punishment, and I accept it.” _It’s all right_, he mouthed. His eyes drifted back to Jack, who somehow looked less angry and more thoughtful than before. “I took it upon myself to try to save her, because every government authority,” he glanced at the corner again, making it clear that the Ministry was included in this, “washed their hands of us. I begged for help, but no one was willing to do anything besides throw money at us. Out of eight hundred and seventy-two souls at Canary Wharf that day, there were only twenty-eight survivors,” he breathed, his eyes wide and haunted.

“I thought there were twenty-seven,” Owen said, but then he sucked in a breath when he realized that Lisa Hallett would not have been listed on any of the rolls of survivors.

Ianto glared at him. “There were twenty-eight,” he repeated with a snarl. “The government wrote a check, and then wrote us off. You,” he turned resentful eyes to Jack, “made it perfectly clear you didn’t care what happened to any of the survivors. Because it was all our fault, obviously,” he snarked. “Yes, we twenty-eight, all sat down and gave Yvonne bloody _fucking_ Hartman her marching orders. We were all personally culpable. Lara on the janitorial staff, who cleaned the toilets, and Judith the lunch lady… they were in it up to their eyeballs, Jack, make no mistake.”

He glared at Jack, who under the force of Ianto’s sarcasm finally realized just how ridiculous it was for any of them to blame the survivors for Yvonne Hartman’s reckless decisions. Owen looked away, obviously reaching the same conclusion.

It was not a proud moment, for any of them.

Ianto looked at Owen. “No one cares, so no one knows. But with me gone, someone should. So I’m telling you. Of the twenty-eight, two succumbed to their injuries within a month of the battle. Eight more have committed suicide. Poor Judith broke into the wreckage and climbed to the top of the tower, three days before they pulled it down.” He sniffed. “She called me before she jumped. I kept her talking, but I couldn’t get there, in time.” He choked again. “I had to watch her fall.”

Owen looked appalled. Jack was frowning, doubtless wondering how Ianto got to London quickly enough to see the woman fall. He asked as much.

Ianto’s glance to the corner confirmed Luna’s suspicion that floo powder had been involved, but he glared at Jack. “I go to London every now and then, to check on the others,” he spat, “since no one else can be arsed to do anything.” But the flare of resentment died again, and he bent in on himself, a bit more. “And now Lisa. That leaves seventeen.” He looked at Jack, his expression and eerie blend of despair and determination. “And now you _really_ need to make that number sixteen.” 

Without warning, he stumbled forward, bumping into Jack. When he stepped back, he had Jack’s Webley in his hand. Jack’s eyes widened, wondering how the kid had gotten his gun off of him so easily. Owen didn’t even have time to reach for his weapon before Ianto pulled back the hammer, slapped the gun into Jack’s hand, and knelt before him, holding the barrel to his forehead. “Please, Jack,” he whispered. “You _promised_.”

“What did I promise?” Jack asked, shocked. His finger was well away from the trigger.

Ianto huffed. “You said that I needed to execute her, or you would execute us both. I couldn’t do it, and I betrayed you all, besides.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. He saw Jack’s hesitation and decided it was time to provoke the Captain, perhaps rekindle some of that anger so he would do what needed to be done.

“C’mon, Jack. Here’s your chance to punish Torchwood One,” he goaded. “You’ve always made it clear that every one of us got everything we deserved, and that I was no better than any of the rest. Well, I’ve got news for you, Captain. I am responsible for _everything_ that happened.” His eyes burned into Jack’s. “I was Yvonne Hartman’s personal assistant.”

Jack flinched. Owen swore. Luna could see the fury igniting in every line of Harkness’ stance. His finger was on the trigger, now.

Ianto gave a faint smile, feeling that he was close to his objective. His voice took on a persuasive, almost hypnotic quality. “Here’s your chance, Jack. Whom better to punish for Torchwood One’s arrogance and hubris? You can hold me accountable for everything that happened, that day.” He paused, looking into Jack’s eyes. He let go of the barrel, but leaned further into it. “You can finally punish someone for the death of Rose Tyler.”

Jack drew in a breath. “You do _not_ get to say her name,” he gritted, his body now shaking with rage.

“_**Rose. Tyler.**_ Is **_dead._** Because of **_me_**, Jack,” Ianto pressed on, relentlessly. 

Harry was holding Luna back. She was trying to stand, to stop Ianto from committing suicide, using this Jack person as his weapon of choice. 

_Rose_. Jack sucked in a breath. Rose wouldn't want to be avenged. It was not in her nature. Jack took a good look at Ianto, seeing him clearly, perhaps for the first time. Back in control, he shook his head, raised the gun, and struck Ianto on the side of his head. It barely turned Ianto’s head, though he did see stars, for a moment.

“Jack, what the fuck!” Owen shouted.

Ianto gave his head a shake. It had already been swimming. Now he felt consciousness had become rather a fluid thing. “Okay,” he slurred. “I see how a gunshot wound for a home invasion may look suspicious, for the cover story. And beating me to death would probably be far more satisfying, for you.” He put his hands behind him. “Go on, then. I won’t fight you.”

Jack shook his head as he gently lowered the hammer and wiped the blood from the gun before putting it away. “I’m not going to kill you, Ianto,” he said quietly, his rage having evaporated in the face of the younger man’s desperation. He turned to Owen. “I was trying to knock him out. Just how hard _is_ his head?”

Owen shrugged. “Welsh standard,” he said, looking closely at Ianto. He didn’t like what he was seeing, and that wasn’t even taking what he considered to be a blatant suicide attempt into account.

Jack turned back to Ianto, snapping his fingers to try to get him to focus. That blow to the head had not helped the young man’s state, he realized with regret. “Ianto, I am not going to execute you,” he repeated. He didn’t miss Ianto’s glare before he cast his eyes to Jack’s boots. “Nice try, but you were right, the first time. There’s no way Yvonne’s P.A., or anyone else, could have been responsible for anything she did.” 

Jack sighed. “I am suspending you, for four weeks. Owen is going to check you out, now. We’re going to set up cameras, and if we decide you need to be on suicide watch, you’ll end up in one of the cells at the hub. I think we’d all rather you be more comfortable here at home, where you can grieve in relative private. One of us will check in every day. Understood?”

Ianto continued to stare at the floor. “I’d like a shower, before Owen pokes or prods at me, please.” 

He was being deceptively calm and cooperative. Harry and Luna were immediately suspicious, but the others had obviously not bothered to get to know Ianto well enough to see his capitulation as such a huge red flag.

Ianto looked up at Owen. “I think there’s some water in the refrigerator,” he began, but trailed off, hoping the doctor would take the bait.

Owen clapped him on the shoulder, causing him to wince. “I’ll get you some, and a little something to eat, maybe. You can have it when you get out of the shower.”

Ianto nodded. He waited another beat, knowing that if he did not distract him, Jack would start stomping around the flat, being nosy. After Jack picked up the jump drive, he made his way to the corner, inspecting Cerridwen’s perch. Ianto quietly rose to his feet and headed to his bedroom. No one besides Harry and Luna, who were following him, noticed that he picked up Owen’s medical bag, on his way.

He headed straight into the bathroom. They managed to follow him in before he closed the door and locked it. Within seconds the invisibility cloak was off, and they were kneeling before him as he sat on the floor and turned Owen’s bag upside down between his splayed legs. He began going through its contents, looking for something he could use.

“Ianto, I’m so sorry about Lisa,” Luna began. 

“I couldn’t save her,” Ianto muttered, sounding lost. “I kept her alive, and she was still her,” he looked up fiercely at them. “I used legilimency, so I know the cyber-tech wasn’t just manipulating me.”

“We believe you, Nif,” Harry said quietly. He pulled out his wand and used the _muffliato_ spell to mask their conversation. 

“The Ministry said the survivors were a muggle problem,” Ianto said, picking up bottles and reading them before dropping them again. He cursed when he picked up the same bottle for the third time. “I suppose that included me,” he spat, “since I’m the exiled bastard child of the Ministry.”

“That’s not true, Nif,” Harry protested, but he clamped his mouth shut at the withering expression Ianto graced him with. The Ministry’s actions were not on Harry’s side, here, and he knew it.

Ianto went on. “And no one in muggle authority wanted to help, either.” He sat back. “Are there any more Dementors at Azkaban? I imagine it should be the kiss, for me, for what I’ve wrought, since Jack won’t accommodate.”

“No, Nif,” Harry said gently, knowing his friend was just looking for ways to self-destruct, at this point. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was the Cybermen. You were just helping Lisa, right up until the moment she lost her battle with the cyber-tech. You’re not guilty of any crime.”

“Tell that to Dr. Tanizaki and Annie,” Ianto said bitterly.

“That was the cyber-woman,” Harry repeated. “You are not responsible for that. You had no way of knowing.”

“I should have.”

“Why, because that prat in the coat said so? What were you meant to do? Execute her while she was still Lisa?”

Ianto flinched, and Harry regretted speaking so sharply.

“Ianto, it’s all right. We’re going to help you,” Luna said gently.

“There’s nothing that can be done,” Ianto said quietly. It chilled both friends to hear the utter despair in his tone.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“No wand, remember?” Ianto spat. “My magic went haywire – apparently, having your girlfriend turn herself into a brain-swapping evil cyber-zombie will do that. Who knew?” he snarked. “Drew it back in, and now…” he curled in on himself a bit, his fight with the pain becoming more obvious, now that they knew what it was. 

He wheezed. 

“You’re hurt,” Luna exclaimed.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered as he pawed through the medical items spilled onto his bathroom floor, looking for the things he knew Owen normally kept in his bag. There were at least three different things that would be lethal, in the right dose. But none of them were there. Only a relatively mild sedative. “Shit,” he said angrily. “Well, nothing for it.”

He pulled out a syringe and filled it completely with the sedative.

“Hey, Nif?” Harry said, frowning. “That looks like an awful lot…”

“Not nearly enough,” Ianto replied as he jabbed the syringe into his thigh and pushed the plunger in, grumbling. Oddly, he left the syringe just jutting out of his thigh. He considered filling it again, but he knew his friends would know for sure that wasn’t right, wizard and witch, or not. He found Owen’s scalpel set and pulled one out.

“Ianto!” Jack could be heard thundering towards the door. From the sounds of it, they’d finally noticed that Owen’s bag was missing.

“I love you both, but you need to go, now,” Ianto said, pulling up his sleeve. Before they could stop him, he plunged the scalpel into his forearm.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go with the prequel! Hope you like it, though these first few parts are going to be brutal.
> 
> Kudos and comments welcome!  
(Who are we kidding? Kudos and comments are openly solicited...)


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